


Ghost of A Rose

by sapphireswimming



Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Adult Danny Fenton, Alternate Universe, Angst, Character Turned Into a Ghost, F/M, Ghost Hunting, Ghost Sam Manson, Grief/Mourning, Hurt No Comfort, Post-Canon, Romance, Sad Danny Fenton, The Nature of Ghosts, Tragedy, Two Shot, Undergrowth Sam Manson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-27
Updated: 2013-04-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:27:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23070937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphireswimming/pseuds/sapphireswimming
Summary: "I love you," he can hear the echo of her voice in his head. "So I'll never let go."
Relationships: Danny Fenton/Sam Manson
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [DP: Cold](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/565519) by StarsOfTwilight43. 



> Originally posted here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/9240265/1/Ghost-of-a-Rose
> 
> Title from the _Blackmore's Night_ song of the same name
> 
> Ending partially inspired by starsoftwilight43's art: https://www.deviantart.com/starsoftwilight43/art/DP-Cold-84702387

It was raining. The water fell steadily onto the roof above his head, making a soft but incessant pattering noise. Danny sat on the bed as he stared out the floor-to-ceiling windows that took up most of his bedroom wall.

It seemed so close, like he could reach out his hand and feel the raindrops cascading over the glass. He wanted to be out there, face up to the sky so that the rain poured over him, washed through him. But he couldn't even find it in himself to stand up and walk out the door.

If he somehow summoned up the energy to move, when he hit the shield flush with the walls, he would quickly remember why he couldn't leave, why he couldn't go outside.

Not that he was trapped inside the room or house, per se. He was confined inside the ghostly boundaries, but he had been the one to put up the shield. He could alter it at will. He could turn it off without any trouble. But the trouble would come if he did.

So it stayed up nearly all the time now, although he had modified it so that it was no longer visible. For the first few weeks, when he flipped the switch, the entire house would be coating in a sickly, glowing neon green. He hated it. Hated what it meant. So even though the shield had to stay, he changed it enough that he could hardly tell it was there now. Not unless he looked for the faintest glow or tried to put his hand through the partition. Then he would remember… all too well.

There was a flash of lightning. Danny's eyes were closed so he didn't see anything beyond a faint illumination of his eyelids. He didn't react to it. The thunder rumbled in the distance so softly that he might have missed it.

He shivered. The temperature had dropped.

Without opening his eyes, he knew that the scene around him had completely changed.

Everything had darkened.

It was no longer the dark of a night where the stars were covered with stormy clouds. Now even the lightning and street-lamps were shielded from view. It was as if they had been blocked out. He had been cut off.

The soft sound of the rain was drowned out in an eerie muffled silence. It was oppressive; the nothingness pressing into his ears until he could no longer hear the beating of his heart.

The smells changed too. It wasn't the familiar and safe smell of his house anymore, but something else, something cloyingly sweet and irrationally comforting… just a hint of lavender.

He knew what he would see if he opened his eyes. Dark green vines with delicate purple flowers trailing and curling and blooming until they had blocked out any view from the windows. And in the midst of them…

standing there…

hovering right there…

_she_ would be watching. Waiting. Staring at him with the deepest amethyst eyes, the ones that haunted his every waking moment and invaded every crevice of his dreams.

He knew exactly how she would be standing there, how she would wait for him, silently beckoning with a single outstretched hand.

He squeezed his eyes firmly shut. He didn't want to see. He didn't want it to be real. He didn't want her to be here.

Not tonight. 


	2. Chapter 2

Danny squeezed his eyes further shut as if, along with the thunder and lightning, that movement would block out the smell of lavender and the presence that filled the room, threatening to overwhelm him.

He hoped it would disprove the truth he knew but didn't want to see.

Maybe it would force him awake and he would be relieved to find it was only a nightmare. One that was all too vivid and too real. And one that had repeated itself again and again and again until he thought that his heart would break. But a dream nonetheless.

That was what he hoped for with every fiber of his being as he squeezed his eyes shut. That was what he wished for. But it was an irrational hope and he knew it.

This was no dream. She was here. She was waiting for him. And he would have to do something about it.

Even if he were to close the curtains, he would never be able to ignore her.

And the last time he had tried, she responded by wrapping her leafy tendrils around his car, the sleek black eco-friendly thing she suggested he buy when she was alive. He didn't hear the alarm go off, but heard the shattering of glass and scraping of metal against metal as she crushed it.

When he closed his eyes to try to block it out, hoping that she would go back to the Ghost Zone where she belonged, she had started for the neighbor's house. He was there less than ten seconds after he heard the kids begin to scream.

It had cost him his car and landed Jake in the hospital with fractured legs, but he finally understood.

He couldn't ignore her. He was her obsession. Just as she was his.

Only… it wasn't this Sam that was his obsession. His Sam wouldn't deliberately target children. His Sam wouldn't torment him by coming after him night after night, giving his mind and body no rest from his trials.

No, this wasn't his Sam.

But he could hardly convince himself of that when he faced her.

Sure, he could see the ghostly glow radiating softly off of her. He could see the altered outfit— the purple dress that was her prom dress and Undergrowth uniform combined into something that he wished she had worn while she was alive. She looked great in it, even now that her face was paler than his and her eyes were rimmed in a ring of undead black.

He could see all of this. And the vines flowing with ectoplasm that had no chance of being remotely natural or human.

She was a ghost. And he knew it. He could see it there in black and white.

But when he looked into her eyes…

… all he could see was that she was Sam.

She was his lovely, beautiful, independent, animal loving Sam. His best friend. His ghost-hunting partner. The love of his life.

She was still his Sam.

Her eyes were the same, but now instead of looking at him like she used to, there was a different kind of fire in her eyes. An insatiable blaze that consumed both of them.

He knew from their bright gleam that he was the only one being hurt when her tendrils wrapped around his body, exerting pressure around his neck to stop his breathing or arm to stop a building ecto-blast.

But he wasn't sure who was hurt more when he was able to land a hit on her. It felt like he was destroying a part of himself every time he blasted or punched her. She recovered too quickly and he would find himself needing to attack.

Jab again.

Punch twice.

A flurry of ecto-blasts.

Then some shards of ice to slice through the foliage trying to pin him down.

He had discovered early on that if he went easy on her, she wouldn't go easy on him. And if he didn't keep her occupied, she would go after something or someone to put him on the offensive again.

And then he would finally find an opening and take her down in a stream of harsh blue light, ending it for a while.

What he couldn't stop, however, no matter how hard he tried, was her final scream as she disappeared at the end of every fight. It would tear through his heart and echo through his head for hours until he finally fell asleep, the tears having long since soaked his pillow as he clutched the occupied thermos to his chest.


End file.
